


Candle Wax

by PeopleDoCrazyThings



Series: Stories About Love or Death [2]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Cuties, F/M, I'm back with some more mythology, and my girl Persephone's back y'all!, bad parenting on all sides tbh, lots of bad family times, psyche and eros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:36:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleDoCrazyThings/pseuds/PeopleDoCrazyThings
Summary: This is the tale of candle wax, of beauty, of love, of finding friends and losing trust, of mothers with ulterior motives, of death, of life, of hope.This is the tale of Eros and Psyche





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> iiiiiiiiii'm back! Told you guys I would be!  
> I really love this myth as well, and there's gonna be a few more after this one- all in a big series that kind of revolves around my faves, Hades and Persephone.
> 
> Also this is just the prologue.

# Prologue: The Queen

_The course of true love never did run smooth_

* * *

 

i. It is late summer, only a few hours until I can return home, and I am stuck attending another of Aphrodite’s gatherings. She has had at least 30 in the six months I have been back. I had managed to avoid 29 up till this point, but Artemis had found me and dragged me here this evening; refusing to suffer alone again.

(There is a certain skill to wide-eyed smiles and mindless chatter)

“Oh, I’ve just had the most dreadful day,” Aphrodite intones as invisible servants fill our glasses with more wine. Her hair is piled on her head and full of more jewels than the entire underworld garden, her makeup is smudged, and eyes wide and wild and angry.

(I have never understood why the mortals praise her beauty)

“There’s this brat, this mortal princess brat, and she’s so beautiful that men literally crowd around her demanding she marry them, she hasn’t been outside in weeks!” Her face is getting redder and redder. Over her battle strategies, Athena shares a long look with Artemis and I.

“My shrines and temples are practically empty at this point! It’s unacceptable!”

I take a long sip of wine, then, “why not offer her some advice? I doubt she’s any happier than you are, at her predicament.”

Aphrodite laughs, for long while. She recovers long enough to gasp, “help the gorgeous brat? _Help her?_ Goodness, Persephone, are you out of your mind?” She giggles to herself, then runs an appraising look at me, “well you did marry Hades so-”

“Excuse me?”

“I agree that he is far more handsome than expected, but really, he rules the _dead_ , how insane would you have to be to-”

(Really it was her own fault for setting her gathering in a garden of all places)

The thorns erupt from the ground, destroying her pavilion. “Do not assume to know us, Aphrodite,” I say, sweet as the roses in my hair. Artemis shoots me a gleeful look, and I wonder the only reason she wanted me here was for this kind of entertainment. I stand. “I really must be going now,” Aphrodite raises her hand in a half-hearted command, Athena quirks an eyebrow and informs me I still have an hour till I’m allowed back in my palace.

“I would rather wait in front of those gates for an hour than spend one more minute with someone who chooses to insult me,”

(I would rather do _anything_ than spend another second listening to Aphrodite)

Ψ

ii. When the gates finally open for me, I see Hades’ back. His front is facing towards Thanatos who looks like he is delivering some particularly bad news, over Hades shoulder he catches my eye. With a finger to my lip, I creep closer to Hades, then throw my hands over his eyes.

“Guess who it is,” I trill.

“Persephone, darling,” he drawls, “your voice -”  his shoulders tense and then, “Persephone!” he whoops, spinning me around, “Thanatos was just telling me that I wouldn’t see you for a while longer,”

“Why would I be late?” I ask, Thanatos gives me a wry grin,

“I heard from your mother that you were out at one of Aphrodite’s gatherings.” I make my disdain for the gathering apparent enough that both of them laugh.

Hand in hand, we walk into the dining room, where a family dinner has been prepared. Just as we are sitting down, I remember,

“Oh, just a warning, don’t be too surprised if a young girl named Psyche appears down here sometime soon- and please direct her to me immediately.”

 


	2. Part 1: The Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is where the story begins, hope you like it!

# Part 1: The Body

_Love is not beautiful: it desires beauty._   


* * *

  
i. I’ve never believed in destiny.

 

My sisters tell me that this is foolish and that just because _‘you’re the most beautiful doesn’t make you too wise or powerful for destiny, Psyche.’_

And I want to say, _no, but being well-read and a princess might_. But instead, I sit still and look pretty, because father doesn’t like it when we fight and mother doesn’t like it when I act ‘unbecoming’ in front of my suitors.

 

(All the men in our city are my suitors, and all the men from the surrounding cities as well, so really when can I ever be myself?)

 

Mother, of course, believes in destiny like she believes in breathing; it is the only thing that keeps her alive on days like today. Days when I sneak out of the palace refusing to meet anyone, refusing to be gawked at.

 

“My daughter is destined for greatness,” she has always said, “the gods would not have made her so beautiful for nothing.”

It wasn’t until my fifteenth birthday, that I understood her vision of greatness was a greatly beneficial marriage, a great wealth, a great number of children. By then my vision of greatness had more to do with art, poetry, adventure. But those were pushed aside by flowing dresses, and jewel-studded head-pieces, and flowery marriage proposals.

 

I vehemently refused to marry for anything but love, and, once my parents had acquiesced, made it my only task in life to never fall in love. Destiny be smitten.

 

My beauty has been praised up and down all of Greece, people come for miles to glimpse my face. Many people- my elder sisters included - believe me to be vain, but who has time for vanity when there are far more important things to be concerned with?

 

Which is why, on my nineteenth birthday, I am tending to the sick children of our kingdom instead of dancing with princes. And once I have done all I can here, I will find a quiet place and read and pretend that I am just an ordinary young girl who can do what she wishes with her life.

 

The little boy I am mixing poultice for, under the stern eye of his nurse, tugs my sleeve.

“Happy birthday, Princess,” he whispers, and for a moment, it is.

  


Half an hour later I am ushered out; as much as they enjoy having extra help, the healers cannot hold me for much more than an hour, for fear that one of us may get into serious trouble if caught.

 

So I wander down a well-worn path into the royal gardens, and with years of practice, pull myself into the branches of a tree.

Then the voices come.

 

“Princess Psyche, where are you?”

“O Fair and beautiful maiden -?”

“Your Highness, are you out here?”

 

A group of men, most likely comprising of princes and lords and other nobilities. Out searching for me, or rather the princess I pretend to be.

 

“Up there, in the tree!”

 

I peer down and sigh mournfully, the group- no less than 20 men- all stare up at me expectantly. I swing down with as much grace as I can afford. Two rush forward to help me to my feet and it irks me beyond belief to not be allowed to stand up myself.

 

“Princess, what on earth were you doing up there?” One of them asks, the others echoing his sentiment.

 

“I was reading,” I say, pulling the offending scrolls out of my sash. They recoil as if struck, but I smile softly and this distracts them well enough for the moment to pass. I walk towards the palace, and like sheep, they bleat after me up the path.

 

“Your Highness, your beauty knows no end.”

“Your Highness, your smile could make a man fall in love.”

Your Highness, you outshine even Aphrodite herself.”

 

“ _What?”_

 

Encouraged by my attention, he barges on, “you are far lovelier than the goddess of love, In fact I should worship you in her place.”

 

Panic surges through me, “Oh no, please don’t, really, I-”

 

“Your humbleness,” another presses on, “deems your far superior to her.”

“Your gracefulness,” someone shouts over the others, “is unequaled even among the gods.”

“We should, none of us, care for Aphrodite, while in your presence, Milady.”

 

(no no no no no no no no no no no)

 

“No really, don’t say such things-”

 

“You’re right, Lord Aineas, I would prefer to worship Princess Psyche”

“Thank you Lord Lamech, I agree with you, don’t we all? All hail Princess Psyche!”

 

There is an echoing response as they all reply in kind. My uneasiness grows into fully fledged panic, I try to calm them down, but a group of men hades-bent on a bad idea are impossible to reason with.

I’ve known this was coming, I hear the rumours around our city that the Goddess of love and beauty’s temples are largely empty, that people are looking elsewhere to find the patronage of beauty, that she resides within the palace's walls.

 

I’m no fool, I know they speak of me.

My fear is that Aphrodite is no fool either.

 

(There’s really only one failsafe way to remove competition)

 

I walk silently to the palace, and I wonder how long I have left.

 

Ψ

 

ii. around dinner time I emerge from my rooms, my sisters spring from whatever alcove they’d been gossiping in to escort me to the dining room. They claim the seats on my left and right and plie me for information regarding the men who make up my more vocal admirers. I inform them they have all the tender sweetness of crocodiles, and they are as strong as their tempers are short. This somehow does not deter them.

“Psyche,” I look over at my father watching me carefully, “I heard of rumours that men have been equalling and even rivaling your beauty to that of-”

 

“NO,” my hands lunge through the air, my family blinks at me in shock, “just- don’t say her name, I don’t want to invoke her wrath any further.”

 

“So it’s true,” mother gasps,                             “I knew you were destined for great things,”  
                                    -in fear or delight I cannot say-                                                  -delight then-

 

“Mother, really-”

 

“More beautiful than who?” Calantha asks over my protests,

 

“More beautiful than-”

“Calantha it’s not important!”

 

“I beg to differ! Being called more beautiful than-”

 

“Mother! Enough!”

 

“-Than Aphrodite! Her suitors were claiming she was more beautiful than Aphrodite herself!”

 

Calantha’s eyebrows go up and she whispers something to Ariane that sounds like words a princess should not be overheard using.

 

Mother continues to crow about the new title the men have given me despite my complaints. Finally, I slam my hands down on the dining table, the momentum forcing me upwards,

“ENOUGH.” I shriek, “FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, PLEASE, STOP SAYING I AM MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN APHRODITE.”

 

There is a heavy silence as my family stares up at me in various states of abject horror.

 

The air tingles, with something like electricity and the beginning of a storm.

 

A loud thump echoes around the halls of the palace. Just once. As though the roof had been lifted into the air and then slammed back down by an unseen hand.

 

A flash of bright light. Then darkness. Then a voice.

 

“Where is the Princess Psyche.”

 

Two seconds of loyal silence and then-

 

“She’s there! She’s right there! Standing up! Please don’t hurt us, take her!”  
Ariane and Calantha. My own sisters.

 

There is a terrible silence, then my feet are pounding in time with my heart as I race through the halls and corridors I know so well, bursting through the doors and out into the gardens.

Not too far behind a hear what sounds like a great wind, and a growling.

I will my legs to run faster, run for my life.

I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder.

Golden eyes, the only thing visible in the darkness.

My legs do not stop, even though my brain seems to.

I do not see the cliff.

I do not even think to look for it.

And then I am falling,

  Down,                                                                                                                        up.

            Down,                                                                                                       up

                      Down.                                                                                      up

                              Something burning hot crashes into me, pulling me back

The air is torn from my lungs, as I turn my head I meet the golden eyes of the monster once more.

They are wildfire, burning with immortal rage.

I do not look away.

They soften in surprise and something like hope.

Then the creature growls, softly, the anger returning to his eyes.

 

We hover.

 

I wait to be dropped, or perhaps launched into the sun, but a warm summer breeze wraps around me, carrying me much more gently than whoever, or whatever, my kidnapper did.  

 

Words whisper in my ear, I am too shaken to make them out, but the tone soothes me, and as I float away from the only place I have ever known, exhaustion hits me.

 

Ψ

 

iii. I wake up on a chaise, and for a moment I forget that I am not in my own room.

Then I see a golden tray of food floating towards me. Panic surges up in my throat.

I leap to my feet, but a gentle force pushes me back onto the bed, I turn but no-one is there.

 

“Really now,” an unseen voice chides, “we just want to bring you a meal, no need to panic.”

My hands shake as I accept the tray- samples of all kinds of food stare up at me.

 

“He wasn’t sure what you preferred to eat, being a mortal, so we had something of everything prepared.” another invisible voice informs me.

 

“He?” I ask turning my face towards where I think the voices are coming from, on the other side of my face, something rather like a gust of air turns my head slightly, and I can almost make out something shimmering in front of me, as the first voice replies,

“Yes, Er- Our master.”

 

I pick up something that looks edible, “Your master? The monster who stole me?”

 

“You mean the monster who saved your life?” A deep voice asks, my head jerks to the door frame, where a swirling darkness - save for those two golden eyes - stands.

 

I choke on a derisive laugh, the food dropping back onto the tray. “If you had not broken into the palace-!”

 

“Well if you had not run away-”

 

“If I-? You cannot be serious! If you hadn’t chased me down, I wouldn’t have needed saving at all!”

 

“If you had not fancied yourself more beautiful than Aphrodite-”

 

“That was _not_ me! I was the one trying to make it _stop._ If you had just _asked.”_

 

The eyes blink. Once. Twice. Then he- it- the monster. Leaves.

 

Giggling breaks out from the two voices.

 

“Oh, I haven’t seen him lost for words in many a millennium!”

 

Fingers tap my head in approval, “You’ll do,” the voice murmurs happily.

  
  


They send me to bathe amd when I return a dress of soft greys and whites is hanging mid-air.

“Who are you?” I ask, as the invisble somethings dress me.

“We are Lidia and Lita, servants of The Wind Palace and your new ladies-in-waiting.” they say, in unison. Which is rather unnerving.

Then.

“Wait a moment. _My_ ladies-in-waiting? How long am I to be here? What about my family? And why are you invisible?”

 

“We-”

 

“Your family believes you dead. And they didn’t mourn you.” I flinch, though really, I am not that surprised.

“Aphrodite ordered you to be...removed, so you will remain here for a long time I am afraid. And they are invisible because they are wind nymphs- there’s nothing to see.”

I turn with a growl to once again see nothing but the dark and two infuritating eyes.

 

“And what’s your excuse? Why are ou shrouded in shadows?”

 

His eyes narrow, “I am not particularly fond of how people react to my outward appearance, I’m sure you can relate to that feeling.”

 

I nod, although curious I am not quite confident enough to ask if it is because he is beautiful or hideous.

I have a feeling it it most likely the latter.

 

Lidia, Lita, and the monster, lead me into the sitting room, and I nearly run back into my bedroom.

When they named it the Palace of Wind, I assumed it was because they were old wind nymphs and creatures- not because the entire palace was floating in thair air, held aloft by thw wind currents.

As if sensing my panic the monster takes my hand- it’s surprisingly humanlike and very warm.

 

“It has stood here for many millions of years and never so much as tilted. You are very safe.” he says. I am inclined to believe him.

He leads me on a tour of the palace until we come  to a room full of books and easles and scrolls of paper and ink.

“This room isn’t used a lot,” he admits softly, as I wander in. “But, I thought you might like it.”

 

“Like it?” I whisper reverently, “this is-  there are no words.”

 

He smiles, well I cannot be sure, but his eyes look happier and his voice is light when he says, “well, it’s yours.”

I beam, spinning with joy.

“About- about the kindapping,” he eyes me warily as he continues, “I know it seems strange but it’s either hide you here, or kill you.”

I stop smiling.

 

“What?”

 

He motions with his hand and a chaise catches me as I slump, he joins me on the seat.

“Aphrodite ordered me to kill you, in retaliation to what the people were saying about you.” I shudder, “but between you and I,” he nudges my shoulder and something soft brushes my cheek, “I’ve had enough of Aphrodite ordering me around, so I decided to make my own descisions for once.”

 

“Oh.” I say, then, “Thank you.”

 

He laughs, “You’re very welcome, Psyche.”

 

I feel slightly brave enough to ask, “What do I call you?”

 

“What?”

“Your name, you know mine, but I don’t know yours.”

 

He sighs, “Eros.”

 

I mull the name over in my head, it seems familiar, as though it should mean something me but I cannot remember what.

 

“Eros,” I repeat, a small smile on my face, “I like it.”

 

“Thank you,” then with a laugh, “my mother gave it to me.”

 

I snort, “very amusing.”

“I thought so.”

 

I pat the darkness, and I think I land on a knee, then I walk over to the stacks of writing and immerse myself in the words. Eros sits by my side offering opinions that are both infuriating and amusing the entire time.

 

Ψ

 

iv. Weeks pass and I get more and more comfortable finding my way about the palace, and interacting with the invisble servants and their shadow-coated master.

Eros is different to anyone I have ever met.

His opinions are blunt and sometimes scathing but he offers them with such a soft tone that they seem refined, and he jokes like it is a necessity to life. But more than that he encourages me to do the same; to make jokes and speak my mind and to argue with him.

 

For the first time in my life I have a real friend. And I think it is the same for him.

 

One day he comes to me and says he wishes his destiny was not to be a monster.

I tell him there is no such thing as destiny- there is nothing you can’t control.

His eyes are soft and sad and he tells me he wishes that were true. But he was born into a family with destiny in their veins.

I say 'memories are like family, you can always walk away.’

 

(I haven’t thought about my family since I left.)

 

He says I couldn’t understand because deep down, I still believe the world is perfectible. I cannot disagree but I ask him what happened that he doesn’t think it is, he laughs. Once. Disdainfully. And does not answer.

 

Another time, he comes home with weary eyes and asks why I don’t hate him. I tell him I don’t understand the point of the question and he mutters something about how my body makes forgiveness the way his makes blood.

I ask if he means his blood or others.

He leaves the room, but i find flowers in a vase.

 

Some days I think I am falling in love with him.

Some days I think he is falling in love with me.

 

I told him one night that even if I cannot see him, I think he is beautiful. He did not say anything for a long time, and I was halfway out the door when he told me that if he couldn’t see me he would know I was beautiful too.

  
  
  
  


But he still has not dropped the shadows. I mentioned it once, just a suggestion that it would be less uncomfortable for us to spend time together -

 

(to be in love)

 

-if he didn’t have a constant hoarde of shadows swirling around him. He didn’t speak to me for three days, when I hunted him down- thanks to Lidia and Lita, he said he thought that I was no longer comfortable and it took me hours to convince him otherwise.

I have not brought it up since.

 

I think he was going to kiss me yesterday. I cannot say what I would have done if he had. Panic, most likely.

I found a scroll tucked behind a pillow where he was sitting.

 

_reasons not to kiss her:_

_i.) this sort of love is not allowed. we are both too soft, and our two worlds are all war and crooked motives._

_ii.) no one ever taught me how to love. my darkness and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves_

_iii.) no one has ever loved me like I want her to- surely i would burn in it all_

_iv.) she belongs in a temple, and i am merely here to gaze, not touch._

_v.) she watches me like i’m fragile, and if only she knew how easily i could break her, and how ic ould neverput myself back together_

_vi.) she is summer mornings and spring flowers, and I refuse to watch the love run out of another mortals' eyes_

_vii.) if  i jump, she would try to catch me, and then i’d have to watch as she tumbled through the dark_

_viii.) her gaze is too gentle. I will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a kind  word and a smile._

_ix.) she is so good. she is too good, and i cannot ruin one more good thing_

_x.) I will not watch her crumble under the weight of my family. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the horrors of my immortal heart_

 

This morning, six months after I first arrived here, I add at the bottom of the note:

 

_reasons to kiss her_

_i.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and is it not rude to keep a princess waiting ?_

I finish the sentence just as a noise alerts me to Eros’ presence.

 

(There is a swishing noise when he walks and I think he has wings.)

 

“Hello Psyche,” he says fondly, inspecting my painting and adding a stroke of grey to a pillar. I bat his hand away. “I have some news,” he says, “I’m leaving for a while.”

 

“Where are you going?” I ask

“Aphrodite,” he says, a wince in his voice.

“What?”

“I am her- “ he falters, and I pounce angrily

“Her what, exactly?”

“Her, well that is not important- I’m going to convince her you’re gone, and I might be a few days so feel free to invite some friends,”

.”..How?”

“The wind. Tell the wind who you want brought over and it will.”

“One day you are going to have to tell me who you really are, Eros.”

He sighs, “one day.” he agrees, but we both know it’s a lie.

 

The note crumples in my clenched fist.

 

He leaves a few moments later, and I after an hour or so of hesitation I tell the wind who I want to visit me.

 

Ψ

 

v. My sisters arrive a few minutes later. Outh of breath and hurling insults at the sky. I apologise to the wind, it cannot reply, but I sense disapproval in the way it whips through my hair.

 

“Psyche?” Ariane is the first to recover, Calantha pinches her. Then herself.

Then they both walk over to me in confusion.

 

“You’re not dead.”

“No.”

 

They do not cry, or laugh, or even try to hug me.

 

They stare in awe at my home though. At the soft colours and lavish decor. They sit and let the nymphs attend to them.

 

“We are both married,” Calantha announces, “to Lamech and Aineas.”

“You remember them, of course.” Ariane says, it is not a question, and I have the strangest feeling she wants me to be jealous of them.

 

“Congratulations, I suppose,” I say airily, “although _I_ would not give up this life for marriage to anyone.”

 

(let alone a self-absorbed Lord who used to be infatuated with a younger sister.)

 

They eye me like I may be insane.

 

“So, Psyche,” Calantha prompts, “how did you come by this palace?’

 

And so I tell them.

 

“And you are in love with him?” This is a question, and I don’t know how to answer Ariane.

 

“Perhaps,” I admit softly, “or maybe not quite yet. Once he trusts me- us- enough to let me see past his fear.”

 

Ariane and Calantha stare at each other for a long long time.

“Psyche, have you ever considered he lies to you?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You said that you thought, when you first met him, he was a monster. What if you were not wrong?”

 

“Imposssible, Eros is-

 

“The creature sent from Aphrodite herself to kill you! Maybe she wants you to suffer; to make you fall in love only to have him betray you at the last second!”

 

No- not possible- but-

My sisters see the fear creep its way onto my face. Ariane presses a candle into my hand.

 

“Light it, at night- when he sleeps he will not think to make  the shadows. Use the candle to reveal who he really is.”

 

“If he is as we fear he may be, call for us with the wind again,” Calantha says, “we will take you home.”

 

(If home is not here, where is it?)

 

They leave a moment later.

They leave me alone with my fear and thoughts.

 

And when Lidia informs me Eros has returned just before nightfall,

I clutch the candle in my hand.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	3. Part 2: The Mind

# Part 2: The Mind

Love is not simple: It is a mixture of several elements united and animated by desire.

* * *

 

 

i. It is night. The candle in my hand is unlit. And I am listening to Eros’ breathing, trying to tell if he’s asleep or not.

 

Trying to decide whether or not to light the candle, and whether or not it will burn bridges as well as the wick.

 

After hours of considering all the possibilities, I decide that I cannot bear to lose him, so I have to trust him, even if, perhaps it kills me.

 

I light the candle so I can see my way back to my room,

As I walk my sisters' words come back to me,

And Eros’ own words come back too,

 

“What if he is a monster?”

“I am her-” _her what Eros? Her assassin? Her monster? Her loyal angel of death?_

 

What if? What if. What if!

 

(Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhati-)

 

“Psyche? Darling?” then more urgently, “Psyche! Breathe!”

 

Something grabs my shoulder, and with buried instincts I spin, arms bent preparing to defend myself.

 

(Everything happens in slow motion, as though watching from outside my body)

 

Golden eyes. Wide and Concerned. Wings, Huge and white and flared in shock. Hair softly curled and so blonde it is almost white. Skin. Golden as his eyes, covered in a short white tunic.

 

The most beautiful man in existence.

I could cry over his beauty.

 

His mouth quirks up fondly, then he sees the candle

Shock registers on his face, his perfect face.

His eyes turn to that wildfire from the first time we met.

The fuel of betrayal incenses him further

He opens his mouth to say something.

I watch as the melted candle wax flies from the candle

And splatters all over his left wing.

And his words turn to screams mid-air.

It is the most devastating sound known to man.

I fall back in shock, tears pooling in both our eyes.

His wing curls in on itself, and he will not stop screaming.

With a final glare, he runs out of the room

I chase after him in the dark

But he launches of the balcony into the air.

And I can do nothing but watch as he flies jerkily into the air until he is no longer visible.

 

And when the screaming still doesn’t stop, I remember to shut my own mouth.

 

I sit in the middle of the balcony for hours, guilt turning to anger turning to tears and tears and tears.

Day breaks and night falls and Eros does not return.

I walk the entirety of the palace asking aloud for help, for information, for a message to be sent.

None of the servants answer my cries. And eventually, I collapse back onto the balcony.

 

“Please,” I whisper, though I doubt anyone will hear me, “I just want to see Eros.”

 

A warm breeze stirs around me, and this time as I float away I hear the soft-spoken words; “I am Zephyrus, I am the West Wind. I brought you here. I will take you to Eros.”

  


Zephyrus places me in front of golden pillars twined with gilded roses and then he leaves me.

 

I walk through the gates and into corridors of gold and pink and the overpowering scent of rose.

The shades of pink get lighter and lighter until almost white, and a gold and white chaise sits in the center, mirrors line the walls and sitting as regal as any queen,

 

Is Aphrodite.

  


Ψ

 

ii. She stares down at me cold and unfeeling.

“Welcome to my home, Psyche.”

 

If looks could kill I would be dead ten times over, as it is, I flinch from her voice of steel and ice.

 

“I am here to see Eros-”

 

“You are never going to see my son again, you treacherous mortal.”

 

Her...son?

              (what?!)

 

“He is far too injured to be seen by anyone, let alone the little human girl who injured him in the first place.”

 

“Please,” I say, “please. I will do anything, _anything._ ”

 

“You are a pathetic human, who tricked my son into ruining his life, and I refuse to let you anywhere near him; not only this but anything I would demand of you in order to repay your debts to me would be impossible for someone so breakable human.”

 

Fire rises up from my soul, burning through my lungs and I spit flames in the form of words;

"I am not fragile or broken or the charred edges of burnt pages that blow away at the softest breeze. Yes,  I am human- I bleed and bruise and cry and want _and_ I survive. Tell me what I must do.”

 

Aphrodite rises from her chair, red gown billowing, and the wild passion she is so renowned for finally surfaces.

 

“How. Dare. You. Speak. To. Me.”

The world shakes with her rage.

“You may think you can survive with your precious willpower, but how long did it take for your sisters to make you lose all faith in my son? How long will it take for you to give up and die?”

 

My first thought is to turn and run, but my second is of Eros. And so I summon all my regal authority, I purse my lips and set my face as cold and endlessly beautiful as the goddess before me. I stare into her eyes and I growl.

"You think you are so much stronger than me because the Earth quivers beneath your feet and your voice shakes the rain from the trees, but you forget that inside of this fragile body of mine is a soul as old as Greece and just as powerful."

Aphrodite falters,

I march to her, a finger's breadth apart

 

“What. Must I. Do?”

 

Aphrodite sits.

And then she smiles wryly. As though she will enjoy breaking me.

  


Ψ

 

iii. “The first task, and there will be four of them, is this: In my hall, there is a pile of seeds- mixed wheat, barley, poppyseed, chickpeas, lentils, and beans- I want you to put these into separate heaps by dawn. If you do not do it, you will never see Eros again and I will kill you.”

 

Hands shaking but head held high I walk into the halls and once Aphrodite is gone, I fall to my knees in despair; the pile is two times my height and four times my width, and I can barely tell the difference between them.

I crawl towards the pile and slowly I begin to sort, praying to every god I can think of.

 

A few hours later, there is barely any difference to the pile, although i have been sorting in a frenzy of fear, anger and desperation.

 

I watch as a small ant scurries over to me, quite possibly losing its tiny mind over the amount of food in front of it.

“Hello,” I whisper putting a small seed of- i think- barley, in front of it, the ant picks it up and scurries away again.

 

I sigh, and go back to sorting. Then the pile turns black and explodes.

 

Thousands upon thousands of ants crawl over the pile, and my surprise turns to terror as I realise the ants are going to take all the food for themselves. I do not imagine Aphrodite would be very merciful towards me, or even believe me if i told her ants took all the seeds.

 

The ants continue swarming and I sit there silently pleading for them to leave.

I watch as the sky starts to lighten, dawn is fast approaching.

The ants start to disperse and I leap at the pile hoping that they’ve left something i can sort.

 

And then my mind breaks.

I must have finally gone mad.

Because otherwise all those ants decided to sort every seed into tiny piles for me.

Dawn arrives.

I hear Aphrodite coming down the hall,

I see her mouth drop open in shock,

I am not crazy after all.

 

The ants sorted the seeds for me.

 

I completed the first task.

 

Aphrodite glares, but she cannot harm me, I have done as she said, and with a wordless shriek she turns and marches out.

 

“Thank you,” I whisper, hoping the ants understand me, and  hurry after her, spirits lifted, and a sliver of hope beginning to form

  
  


“Your second- and much harder task- is to cross that river. On the other side sun-rams, with coats made of pure gold, graze. I want this sack full of golden wool by tomorrow morning, or you shall never see Eros again, and I will kill you.”

 

I roll my eyes at her back, then head off towards the river she pointed out.

Does she think my royal upbringing renders me useless at hard labour?

 

I wade into the river and am about to cross over when my hair catches on some reeds. Leaning close i begin to untangle my hair. I wrench myself free just as a loud, and rather angry, bleating startles me and I fall down into the river.

 

I watch, both alarmed and intrigued, as two sun-sheep attack each other with sharp fangs and huge horns. They shove each other along the riverbank, and I realise that I could never stand against them and hope to live.

But I notice, that just as my hair got caught in the reeds, so too do the sheep, tufts of wool tearing off as they fight. It will take much longer than taking the wool directly off a few sheep, but it will likely save my life.

So i wait in the river, slowly growing colder, until night falls and the sheep- now exhausted and docile without the sun-  go to sleep. Then I creep out of the river and gather the tufts from the reeds and briars they were caught in. Once the bag is full I trudge back to Aphrodite.

She looks with disgust at me; muddy and drenched and beaming as I hand her the bag full of golden wool. She clicks her fingers and something brings it over to her.

 

Oh!

 

“You have wind nymphs too?” I ask, without thinking.

She laughs with no humour, “Oh no, these are all my son’s nymphs- I’ve taken custody until he’s better.”

“What?”

“They were all _so_ upset when they heard you calling for their help, and yet there was nothing they could do. Such a pity.” her eyes are wickedly delighted as she saunters away, the bag of wool, and one of my friends, floating behind her.

 

Ψ

 

iv. “Your third task- and hopefully your final- is to fill this crystal goblet with the black water from the fountain of forgetfulness.”

The way to the river Styx is beyond daunting according to every map I could find. Up a high, craggy mountain with no path at all, and supposedly guarded by monsters.  I slowly begin the journey, heart pounding in my chest, but determination pounding alongside it.

 

Hours later, I arrive upon a slithering mass of deadly looking serpents, hissing urgently at  me. I turn to run, only to see a dragon coming towards me. Fear begins to paralyse me even as my mind begins to whirl into action. I look around hoping to find something I can pull myself onto, but there is nothing. Panic begins to seep into my bones.

A loud cawing interrupts my thoughts- and I watch as a giant eagle swoops towards me, it’s talons digging into my shoulders as it carries me over the monsters and towards the fountain. With a shout of delight i plunge the goblet into the fountain as we fly past, and when I pull it out the goblet is full to the brim.

The eagle places me back down near the golden pillars, and once I thank it, it flies straight up into the sky.

 

I walk in through the corridors, and I can almost hear whispers of encouragement and good fortune.

Aphrodite flings the goblet out the window in anger, and in a low, furious voice, informs me that i should not have survived. And so she delivers her most difficult and diabolical task of all:

 

“Your fourth task, the last task, is a journey to the land of death itself—the underworld. Persephone has a cream made from flowers only available in the underworld that I simply _must_ get my hands on. You will retrieve it for me.”

 

“But- but Mortals are not allowed to go to the underworld—the only way to do it is by dying!” I sputter. Aphrodite walks out the door, turning to wink at me and say “yes, that’s the idea my dear.”

 

Despair is hard to explain.

You have either felt it or not, there’s no way to be half-hearted about it.

If you have even the smallest scrap of hope, there you do not despair.

 

My knees sink into the dirt, my breath catching in my throat,

 

A flower bursts from the earth- then another, and another

I recognise the lilies and gladiolus, but another flower in purple and white and yellow- I do not know this one.

 

I watch as they bloom in the sunlight, and I imagine words whispered in the wind, in my soul.

 

( Cowardice does not make miracles. )

 

My fists clench in the mud made by my own sweat, and I force my legs to stand, to walk,

The flowers trace a path for me to follow.

My hands are stained with blood of bruised knuckles, once I walk past them the flowers turn to ash, I am left with only myself, everyone else is gone- by their hand or my own.

But still I walk.

 

The flowers lead to a rockface, my hand smudges my face and when I rest it against the rocks they stain with my blood, sweat and tears and they turn into doors and open.

 

And the mortal girl walks into the underworld, head held high.

There is a man with a boat, and he greets me by my name and carries me over the rivers of ragged waves and molten lava until I am at the Palace of the Underworld.

I walk, drown, break, burn, but I do not die.

 

A Goddess sits in a throne, her hair is sitting around her shoulders and flowers weave in and out, a tinkling laugh erupts out of her as she listens to the God at her left, lounging in his place, a glass in one hand and a lazy smile playing about his face. They look far too relaxed and amicable to be the King and Queen of the dead, but there they sit, smiling at me with fondness of family.

And Persephone, Goddess of spring and Queen of the Underworld, leaves her throne, and engulfs me in a hug.

 

“Hello little flower,” she whispers, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  


Ψ

 

v. Once I overcome the intial fear of being unexpectedly hugged by a Goddess, I cry in her arms for a long time, and she takes me into her private garden. She apologizes that she cannot offer me food, but mortals are far more prone to curses than gods.

 

She says she and her husband have been trying their best to help me

“Plants are my speciality,” she says with a shrug and I remember reeds and lillies, “Hades tried to send you help too, but he forgets that snakes are quite terrifying to mortals.”

Hades- from somewhere in the palace- scoffs, “Not all of us have giant eagles on hand.”

I stammer my thanks but Hades, seemingly stepping out of shadows, brushes them off.

“We wanted to help, we know far too well the perils of love and disapproving mothers, we support you. That’s all.” He shrugs, slightly uncomfortable but sincere.

 

“See? Even death has a heart,” Persephone says, laughing softly.

“I’m not death! That’s Thanatos! I’m just-”

“Hades, love, I know.” She rolls her eyes fondly, then shrieks in outrage as a jewel the size of my hand comes flying towards her. Hades’ laughter echoes around the palace.

 

I watch their interaction mutely, “So then, you really can find love, even with all this...drama?”

Persephone smiles at me, “I found the kind of love that doesn’t demand me to prove my worth. Something free-flowing, something simple. Something that allows me to be me without question.”

“And you have that in Hades?”

“You know that I do,” she replies, “just as i know you have the same kind of love with Eros.”

 

“It’s just that-”

 

“Psyche.” Persephone sits still cross-legged with her hair undone, and yet her power and authority is never more clear than in this moment when she stares at me with a cold glint in her eyes. “I did not invite you into my home to watch you give up in the final stretch of your journey. When the stars told you your story was written amongst them you went straight to the heavens and ripped it from the sky, you are carving out your own constellations, Psyche, you may be mortal but you are a divine thing. Do not give up.”

 

I swallow roughly.

 

Persephone takes a jewelled box from inside the pocket of her dress, “I have no love for Aphrodite, she has insulted me too many times for that, but I have great compassion and respect for you so I will give you this. It is what she wanted from me, no?”

 

I nod wordlessly.

 

She hands it to me, every inch a Queen, “But Psyche, you must promise me one thing,”

 

“Anything,” I croak, “anything at all.”

 

“Do not give your soul up so easily young one,” she warns, then, “you must promise me you will never open this box. You will have to trust me because I will not tell you why you cannot open it, for fear of being overheard, but whatever you do-”

 

“I won’t open it,” I say, “I swear, I… thank  you so much.  She kisses my forehead in a blessing, and Hades too comes forward and puts a bracing hand on my shoulder,

“Unlike my wife I am no good with flowery words, but I wish you good fortune and I believe in you, young one.”

I curtsy deeply and with a final farewell I make my way back through the underworld.

  


I am almost at the ferry when I see my reflection in the box, for once in my life I am not beautiful.

My eyes are rimmed red and dark circles lie under them, mud dried and cracking sits in my hair and on my face and I suspect blood is there too, my dress is torn, and now I wish I had not refused Persephone’s offer of clean clothes and a bath, in my desperation to see Eros- _oh_.

 

Eros.

What will he think of me? He is the most beautiful creature known to man, how can I show my face to him looking like this?

 

(Tears well up again, will I ever run dry?)

 

Then I remember what is in my hands; a box of beauty cream requested from the goddess of beauty herself. Just a fingertip of this cream would surely make me more presentable, no?

Persephone would understand. I would make it up to her.

 

I readjust my grip and pry the lock open, then with a deep breath I open the box a tiny bit and dart my finger inside.

Almost immediately the scent of ash and earth hit my senses. My finger tingles almost painfully. Alarmed I yank it out of the box- or I try to- my body feels heavy, so so heavy, the box tumbles out of my grasp-

the cream oozes out into the earth -  
Pain rips through my body. -  
I fall to my knees.  -  
Distantly I hear someone screaming -

 

__Psyche! No! Hades, help me!_ _

 

My eyes are so heavy -  
I am so tired -  
Maybe I will just go to sleep briefly -  
My eyes close -

 

__No! Psyche! Fight it! -_ _

 

fight what, voice? -  
My last thought as I drift off is of Eros…

  


EROS.

The name pierces me

EROS.

I can feel a chill in the air.

EROS.

“...Psyche? I don’t know if you can hear me-“

EROS.

“-we froze you before you fell asleep, suspended you-“

EROS.

“- Hades has sent for Eros, but you must fight, Psyche. I shouldn’t have done it, but, well, I put Stygian Sleep in the cream. It would have rendered Aphrodite unconscious for a few months. But for a mortal, for you...

 

...It’s going to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UMMMM  
> idk guys  
> how do you write aphrodite ?  
> Also, those are the legit tasks, could not have made those up if I wanted to  
> Persades is back tho, yaaaay


	4. Part 3: The Soul

# Part 3: The Soul

_ Love is something more than the attraction of human beauty, which is subject to time, death, and corruption. _

* * *

__

i.   Persephone’s words ring in my ears;

_ It’s going to kill you  _

_ It’s going to kill you _

_. . . K i l l  y o u  _

I do not think I am ready to die. 

But I guess I don’t have a choice, really. 

I want to force my eyes open, to scream, to launch out my hands wildly, I want to live.

But as each second passes by I feel myself slowly ebb away. 

I should have listened to Persephone, but then again perhaps this is how it was always going to turn out.

Am I supposed to die? Is that how this ends? I sacrifice myself? For what? For love? For a god who wishes to never see me again? For nothing? Did Aphrodite really fool me into my own death? Did she know the vanity I swore I never would fall would eventually beat me? Has my entire life led up to this one moment of defeat?

Perhaps my mother would think so. 

But I’ve never believed in destiny.

No, the stars never whispered my name, my future.

I grabbed my own fate with two hungry hands, pulling and pushing and molding my life, leaving smudges and dirty fingerprints all over a once clean soul. 

My mistakes are large and long but they belong entirely to me.

And so does my life, and so I struggle, fighting against the dark, pushing past it until-

There is a blinding light behind my eyelids, and a familiar voice asking  _ where is she? _

Then hushed whispers  _ prepare yourself- _

And finally, an anguished, outraged, cry;  _ PSYCHE!  _

My body shrieks with the need to respond, to reassure, to reach out-

“There! Did you see that?!”

-I struggle harder, forcing whatever strength I have left to move- 

“Her fingers! She’s still here!”

-my soul burns with need, with desperation, with love- 

“Psyche, darling, I’m going to get you out of this, I swear.”

I want to say  _ no, don’t waste your time on me. _

But, of course, nothing comes out.

“Psyche, I-“ 

He sounds like he might be crying, “I’m so...so sorry I just… left you. And -and I’m sorry that the first person I went to was  _ her _ . I just- I was so hurt… I thought you did it on purpose- looked at me… but the more I thought about it… well, it was obvious from your expression it was an accident… and I - and then you came- and I didn’t come out to you… I was still… and then she told me you left- I never … if I had known what she was doing- gods Psyche…”

He trails off and I hear murmuring from Hades and from somewhere further off someone screeching-

“...you had  _ no right!” _

“I’m SORRY?!  _ I  _ had no right? What gives you the right to  _ lead a girl to her death?” _

“She tried to kill my son-

“Oh  _ don’t,  _ Aphrodite. We both know what really happened here.”

“You have never spoken to Eros-

“You.” I have never heard Eros mad. I have heard him annoyed and frustrated and exasperated, but never this. Never so cold and furious. 

“Hello sweetheart,” Aphrodite coos, I can picture the indignation rippling down Eros, the cold amusement in Aphrodite’s eyes.

And then suddenly, I am seeing it. I float above the scene; Aphrodite in all red and diamonds looking every inch the, Persephone glaring at her, Hades holding his wife back with a steadying hand, and Eros looking as though his world has ended and he just found the monster who is to blame. 

Then, in synchronised panic, Hades and Persephone whip their heads towards me. I smile, but Persephone shares her head slightly and Hades motions below me- if I could scream I would.

My body is lying crumpled, frozen as Persephone said, and growing paler and paler as I float further away. 

Something near my heart tugs, and so I tug back. There is a rope- an invisible bond- holding me to my body and so I latch onto it with all I have. And I stay floating. Now Persephone returns my smile, albeit a little anxious. 

“What is it?” Eros turns, reaching for me, eyes focused on the worry etched on the couple's faces. 

“No, nothing,” Hades says, smiling softly, “we just-“

“Why is she so cold?” He asks and I wish I could feel his hand pressed against my cheek. Could wipe away his frown.

“We froze her, suspended her mid-death,” Hades waves a lazy hand as though it is an everyday occurrence. Persephone whacks his hand out of the air, clutching it tightly. 

“And she’s fine, and we’re just-“

“She’s still alive?” Aphrodite pouts, and Eros whips back around to her, fury raising his wings, 

“You’re lucky she’s still alive, mother.” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says looking anything but concerned, “and pray tell, what are you going to do with the girl now? She’s almost dead, you can’t resuscitate her, wouldn’t it be best to let her go? She was always going to die before you.”

My heart clenches painfully, everything she says is true. 

Eros opens his mouth, then closes it. Then he turns on his heel and stalks out. 

Hades goes to follow him, but this time Persephone is the hand of caution, wrapped softly around his own. 

“Trust me,” she murmurs, “I know what it’s like to defy your mother for love, he’s got a plan.”

“For the record,” Hades grins, “I think I was the one with the plans, you were the one with spontaneous, last minute deductions.” 

“You have a terrible memory,” Persephone protests laughing. 

Hades kisses her forehead, and they stand in content silence. For once, Aphrodite looks unsure and out of place. 

Seconds later Eros returns, looking pleased with himself. A loud thunderclap echoes around us and Hades groans loudly. 

“You invited them  _ here?”  _

Eros shrugs but doesn’t apologise, one by one the other eleven rulers of Olympus file in. Hades and Persephone reluctantly usher them into their throne room, and Eros carries my body, so gently, after them, while I float alongside him. 

  
  
  


Ψ

ii. With a few quick orders- to their friends and the earth, everyone is seated. Zeus looks most put out at the fact that he is sitting in a dining chair while Hades and Persephone sit on gorgeous thrones.

“This is  _ our  _ home” Hades reminds him

“But  _ I  _ am a  _ king.”  _ Zeus reminds him

“Yes, but not this kingdom’s,” Persephone says and her tone is frosty enough that Zeus says no more. 

I watch as they speak to each other at once both impossibly formal and uptight, yet relaxed and playful at the same time. 

Never in any of my wildest imaginings did I ever think I would meet one god, let alone be privy to a council of them. 

I hover next to my own body, not listening so much as admiring the comings and goings. It isn’t until my name is mentioned that I snap to attention 

“...psyche opened the jar the Stygian sleep hit her almost instantly, Hades and I suspended her before she could fully die and then we contacted Eros and told him what had happened-“

“You didn’t know?” _Hera._

“No, if I had known-“ _Eros._

“Aphrodite didn’t mention her at all?” _Athena._

“I did mention she dropped by, and that she left shortly thereafter.” _Aphrodite._

“Yes, then failed to let him know she was being forced to perform several impossible 

tasks to  _ speak  _ to him.” _Hades._

“What were these tasks?” _Poseidon_. 

“She had to sort a pile of seeds...there was collecting wool from some of Apollo’s sheep-“ _Artemis._

“She collected wool from my sun-sheep? And survived? Impressive.” _Apollo._

“- she also filled a goblet full of water from the fountain of forgetfulness, I bestowed aid upon her but that was only after Hades terrified her with his snakes.” _Zeus._

“He was trying to  _ help.  _ Then finally she was told to venture into the underworld and collect a beauty cream from me.” _Persephone._

“The beauty cream that just happened to be laced with Stygian Sleep?” _Hermes._

“Yes, I’d like to know how that happened as well,” Aphrodite glares at Persephone who shrugs,

“And  _ I  _ would like to know if it’s possible for you to not make this about you every five minutes.” This earns her several sniggers. 

“So she completed the four tasks but then perished, what would you have us do?”

Eros stands, shoulders back, and with a quiet confidence he says, “I want you to grant her godhood.”

  
  


Ψ

iii. There is a stunned silence, something I imagine does not happen often. Then Eros' statement catches up with me- me? a goddess? is he insane? what have I done that could possibly merit godhood? and why would he want this? 

T hey break my chain of thoughts by all speaking at once 

_ Absolutely not! _

_ Are you insane? _

_ On what grounds?  _

_ You cannot be serious!  _

_ If we immortalised every human one of us fell for-! _

With a long-suffering sigh, Persephone stands up, the rest of the council quiets- though not happily. 

“I am in favour of this proposal.” The silence stretches out, then Aphrodite smirks

“Sit down Persephone, one-”

“Two.” Hades says calmly, standing also, the smirk dropping from Aphrodite's face, “If my Queen stands by this then our kingdom, of course, stands with her, myself included.”

Persephone laces her fingers with his, “thank you, now about Psyche, she, has shown resilience and grace beyond most mortals, in the dark she found light, in herself she found hope and kindness, and in others, she found the strength to march forward, head high. If that does not sound like the promise of a powerful goddess what does?”

( _Me? But I-)_

“She should be a goddess because she is kind?” Apollo laughs, Artemis kicks him

“Don’t underestimate the power of a kind woman, brother. After being exposed to misery of the acutest kind, and choosing to remain kind despite it all? That is real power.” She stands as well, “I’m with Persephone, with Psyche; make her a goddess.”

Apollo considers this for a moment before he, and then Athena both stand with the others. Hestia stands too, smiling, “I have always believed that our greatest strength lies in the gentle tenderness of our hearts, I know she will make a wonderful goddess.”

( _They know nothing of me and yet they vouch for me like I am a dear friend?)_

Demeter too stands, “I am doing this mostly for my daughter,” Persephone shares a look with Hades, “but also because I see the same fire in this girl that I see in all of us, in my daughter especially, and if she is anything like Persephone then there would be no-one more worthy of godhood.” Persephone looks momentarily stunned,  then rights herself, realising the same time as I do, that there are more for than against. 

Hera tilts her head towards Eros, “you love her?”

( _Don't ask him that-)_

“Yes.”

_(Oh_.)

“And is this an ‘eternal love that will span across the millennium and be regaled as one of the great love stories by mortals’ or an ‘another god fell for a mortal then got bored and moved on in a year love’? 

Eros bristles at the implication just as I growl under my breath, but Hera nods towards Zeus pointedly. Oh. Right. 

Eros shakes his head, “I love her, and I know true love when I see it, trust me. Furthermore, from what everyone has been saying wouldn’t you agree she deserves this on her own merits not because I love her?.”

( _..._ _So this is love...)_

Hera gives a small smile at this, “I would have to agree with you, and thus you have my blessing and my support.” She turns on Zeus, who in turn glances towards Poseidon.

Poisedon shrugs languidly, “if I’m not against I suppose that means I support it.”

Zeus laughs at this before he too agrees. 

Aphrodite looks as though someone had stolen her favorite headpiece. “This is preposterous, I-”

“Oh enough Aphrodite,” Hephaestus snaps suddenly, “you’ve lost, accept defeat gracefully.”

She turns her wide blue eyes on him. “You are my  _ husband _ you must support  _ me.” _

“We haven’t ever been a conventional couple,” he counters with a badly veiled glare, “don’t try to start now that it benefits you.”

She watches with an open mouth as he stands up and walks over to the other gods. Persephone does not attempt to hide her glee, “So we are in a majority- Psyche is to become a goddess!”

Eros grins down at my body, then brings me in front of Zeus.

Ψ

iv. He lays his hand on my forehead and begins murmuring under his breath. The gods step back. I strain to hear his words- “...and you have remained true to yourself in times of great difficulty,  thus through the intercession of Eros, I name you Psyche Goddess of the Soul.”

His palm burn hot on my forehead and I realise I have merged back into my body, the heat turns painfully hot, spreading to the rest of me, I think I am on fire and I want to scream for someone to put it out and my back feels as though it is tearing in two and I scream but nothing comes out, and then-

Nothing. 

No pain, no heat.

I blink. And there is Eros. watching me intently. 

Hades not too far off with a pitcher of golden liquid, which he hands to Persephone who tips it into my mouth, it tastes sweet and warm and I feel as though I have the energy of 10000 rather than one almost dead. 

I sit up, Eros places a steadying hand on my back and helps me to stand. Persephone gasps, and I wonder if perhaps something went wrong because my back feels oddly heavy.

“Roll your shoulders,” Eros instructs me gently, “push out with your back muscles.”

As I do there is a wooshing sound and something shoots out either side of me. 

_                                               Wings. _

 

“You look incredible,” Persephone gushes, still a few steps away from me, I smile shyly at her

“Persephone I- thank you for what you did for me, for us,” I say, my arms are barely moving before she engulfs me in a hug, careful of my wings.

“Oh, Psyche I’m just so glad you’re okay! You’re going to be an amazing goddess and you must promise to visit every now and then and we’re going to be such good friends.”

I laugh delightedly and remind her I haven’t even left yet but swear I will visit as much as I can, she lets go of me and I lean onto Eros, trying to right myself.

“Does it get any easier?” I ask softly, letting my wings droop.

He smiles, “Of course, and we have forever to work it out.”

I hum happily, “I like the sound of that.”

Much to Hades' relief the other gods leave pretty quickly, Aphrodite did not even stay for the apotheosis. Which upset Eros, but he wasn’t terribly surprised.

We are all resting in Persephone’s garden, she shows me her plans to expand the area whilst trying to hide them from Hades. Eros is sat next to me, absentmindedly playing with strands of my hair as he speaks to Thanatos- something about teaching me to use my wings properly. 

I turn to him abruptly, “I can see you,” I exclaim, shocked.

He raises an eyebrow at me, “yes that is what generally happens when you have eyes, Psyche darling.” 

I bat his shoulder, “you know what I mean.”

His grins softens and he wraps an arm around me, “I do.”

“I didn’t get to tell you but I think you are the most gorgeous being ever to exist,” I say quietly, his grin comes back full force at this.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would have-” his grin drops, “Oh Psyche, I don’t know what I was thinking running to my mother, not coming out to see you, and to think I could have been too late-” he voice breaks on the last word, I cup his face in my hand.

“It was just as much my fault,” I say softly, “I shouldn’t have doubted you, and yes you overreacted but I-”

“Overreacted? Psyche I ran from you into the arms of your would-be murderer! I could’ve been responsible for your death  _ again _ . I’m so so sorry, and the secrecy? I don’t know why I thought that was ever a good idea, I was-”

“You were afraid to get hurt Eros, and then you did. I have forgiven you, now you must forgive yourself.”

He stares at me like I am his salvation. “I went back to our palace,” he finally whispers, “I found a note I had written to myself, there was an addition to it that I don’t remember writing.”

“Oh?” I ask softly, smiling.

“Something about not leaving a good thing waiting,” he says, eyes flitting down to my lips briefly.

I lean in, foreheads touching, “I thought you said you were destined to a life of solitude?”

His breath ghost against my lips, “but you’ve never believed in destiny,” and then he is kissing me. Soft and slow and full of promises we will not break. For as long as we both shall live.

Ψ

v. weeks pass. We stay in the underworld while I recover for a few more days, by then it is spring and Persephone has to return to her mother and we accompany her. It is there I learn how to use my wings and in the sunlight the shine a million different colours. I have not made a long journey yet, only small travels. But today after 2 months, we are finally returning home.

I hug Persephone goodbye, then take Eros’ hand, and we soar into the sky.

I fly contently, if not confidently. Eros around arond me, flying ahead then falling behind, swooping in circles around me.

To an outsider it might look likes he’s playing, but I know better,

“Eros,” I growl, he hovers in front of me trying not look guilty.

“Yes?”

“I don’t need you circling me constantly you realise? I’m not going to fall from the sky anytime soon.”

He pouts at this, and I can see that ‘but’ forming on his lips, so I surge on “If I need a break I’ll tell you, but you hovering around me like this is only going to frustrate me.”

“I- I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” he mumbles.

“And I don’t want  _ you _ to get hurt from flying around like a mad harpy and crashing into something,” I counter brushing his cheeks with my fingers, he catches my hand bring it to his lips for a moment. 

“Very well, we will both fly like normal harpies,” he promises, grinning.

“I love you Eros, but your humour is terrible,” I groan, flying ahead, after a moment I realise he hasn’t been following and I turn around. 

“Eros?” I ask, waving my hand in front of his face, he snaps to attention, smiling in awe.

“You love me?”

“You know I do,” I say softly, intertwining our fingers.

“It’s always a surprise to hear it confirmed,” he admits. 

I kiss his cheek, “well I’d love you even more if you would hurry up, we’re almost home!”

“Home,” he agrees softly. 

I am struck by the thought that our mothers had both taught us our destinies; Eros could never be loved, and I would never be given the chance to find it. 

But I’ve never believed in destiny. 

No, the stars never mapped out a path for me to follow, they never planned my downfalls, my triumphs.

We rule the skies, not the other way around. So I tug Eros’ closer to me, kissing him deeply then pulling him higher into the air; breathing in light  and love and laughter as

we live,

we live,

we live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to theinsanegirl's review which reminded me people are in fact reading this (for some reason) and i should probably finish writing it.

**Author's Note:**

> I got suuuuuuch lovely comments on my last story that i figured it was about time to upload the start of the next one!  
> Still no beta-ing so if there are any mistakes feel free to tell me because I've pretty much given up on proof-reading xx


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